Chapter 13

"Oh she's good," Caradoc mused, peering through his night-vision scope. The sun had set, and the pier was shrouded in complete darkness, with the exception of Harker's floodlights around his compound. "I'd totally hit that."

He felt something pricking the skin on his left wrist.

"Oi!" He rubbed the pinched area. "What was that for?"

"Look, one, she's way too young for you," Gawain said. "Two, she's my apprentice, not yours, and I don't approve. Three, she'd castrate you if you even tried."

"Worth a shot." He looked back through the scope of his Accuracy International AX50, at the slim figure of Holly that was holding a half-filled bottle of whiskey, stumbling towards a man leaning against the outer wall of the compound.

Harker.

Holly groaned over the radio, and dramatically slumped against the wall. "Good evening," she mumbled.

Harker inched away from her, tossing his cigarette onto the gravel and crushing it with his heel.

In three seconds flat, Holly swung one arm around Harker's neck, putting him in a headlock and turning him to face Caradoc and Gawain. "Make a sound and I'll snap your neck like a chicken," she whispered.

Caradoc flicked the switch on his laser sight module mounted on the barrel of his gun, and a red dot appeared on Harker's chest, spot-on with the crosshairs. Gawain did the same, and an identical dot appeared next to his.

"You see that, Mr. Harker?" Holly asked. "One word from me and you're dead. Two holes in your chest, and all that money will have to go unspent."

Harker shuddered. "Are you with them?"

"Depends on who them is."

"Kingsman."

"Oh, no, Mr. Harker. My employers are rather...different. We want some identification cards, to get straight to the point."

Caradoc whistled. "Straightforward too. She'll make someone a good wife someday."

Gawain slapped on his arm. Hard. "I've already given you three reasons, and I know you don't want a fourth. Besides, she's not into guys."

"What? You serious?"

"She told me over lu-"

Click.

"Don't move," said a heavily-accented voice from behind them. "Turn off your lasers."

Slowly, Caradoc reached forward, and flicked the switch off, the dot on Harker disappearing. He kept his eye in the scope, and his crosshairs on the arms dealer. "I didn't think you'd be here, Nassor."

"Neither did I. Put the guns away and look at me."

Caradoc moved his eye from the scope lens, and turned to face Nassor. The big African was standing right above them, holding a pair of Glocks pointed down at their backs. "Stand up. Slowly."

He got to his feet, leaving the AX50s on the edge of the container. "You're quiet, I'll give you that."

"Back in Africa, I came from a family of hunters. They taught be how to sneak up on an animal, and break its neck before it even knows you're there."

"Then why not break our necks?" Gawain asked.

Nassor lowered the pistols. "I would never shoot an ally."

Caradoc raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"In Africa, we use warrior names, not unlike how you use the name of knights."

"Holy fuck you're a Kingsman." Caradoc sighed. "You didn't even fucking tell me the last time."

"I'm going to need more proof than that," Gawain said.

"No identification, sorry. I have been undercover for the last decade, tracking weapons from the Congo Republic to here. I can get you your fake IDs."

"Good enough for me," Caradoc said. "Now we need to arrest Harker."

"No," Nassor said. "I am very close to getting the supplier. The man who sends guns and bombs to Harker."

"Then how do you suggest we do this?"

"Shoot me in the leg. Then drag me to him. I am the only guard left since the businessman hired everyone."

"I'm not fucking shooting you."

"Fair enough." Nassor pointed one of his pistols down at his leg and pulled the trigger. A red hole appeared in his trousers, and he fell over, moaning.

"Jesus fuck, man."

"Take me to him!" Nassor commanded.

Gawain grabbed Nassor by the collar, and shoved him off the side of the container. He landed with a cry.

"Whoa, Val, what the hell?"

"We're getting him to Harker."

"You didn't have to do that." He lowered himself over the side of the container. "He's one of us."

"That's what he told us. doesn't mean it's true."

"Have some faith." Caradoc put Nassor into a headlock like Holly had done to Harker. He pointed one of the Glocks at the African's head.

"Didn't you say that shit happens earlier? What if shit happens now?"

"Then we deal with it, like I said." He pushed Nassor in front of him, towards where Holly was holding Harker in the same position.

Harker's eyes widened when he saw Caradoc, and he clawed at Holly's arm around his neck.

"Let him go," Gawain said.

Holly shoved Harker forwards onto the gravel, and cracked her knuckles. He scrambled to the wall, where he pressed himself against it. "I'm sorry, okay? Please don't kill me!"

"Relax," Caradoc said, pushing Nassor towards him. "We're not here to kill you. We just want fake IDs."

Harker's look of horror was suddenly replaced by smile. "You could have just said so!"

"And let your men shoot me? I'd rather not."

"There's only Nassor here, man. The businessman took the rest of them."

"How much did he pay you?"

"More than I'll probably ever earn in my entire life." Harker rubbed his hands together. "Now, you want IDs?"

"Ones that are already on the database."

"Oh, I can get you some." He looked at Nassor, and the bullet wound in the latter's leg. "You didn't have to do this."

"Give us the IDs," Gawain said.

Harker scrambled to his feet. "We have to go inside. Then we can take photos and put them on the cards."

Caradoc kept the pistol aimed at Harker for a long moment. "Fine," he said lowering the gun. "But delete everything afterwards."

"Wonderful!" Harker clapped his hands. "Nassor, can you stand?"

"A little bit," he grumbled.

"That's fine. You'll be doing the image editing anyway."

Holly crossed her arms. "I'm starting to feel like this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship."

I wouldn't call it that," Caradoc said. He flicked the barrel of his pistol from Harker to the warehouse shutter. "Get going."

Jonas laid dazed on the ground. Above, he saw the roof of Klaas' skyscraper, and the moon hovering over it, shining its yellow-tinted brilliance onto him. Klaas was dead. He wasn't. He sat up slowly, a constant pain burning through the muscles in his back, spreading down to his thighs.

It hurt particularly in his left thigh, where there was a red bullet hole.

He was on some sort of terrace that extended out from the side of the skyscraper, that had broken his fall and saved him. The ground was green, and had a rubbery texture.

Badminton court, he thought. He recalled smashing several shuttlecocks over the net and to Klaas' feet, earning shouts of frustration from him. Good times.

A head appeared over the edge of the roof.

Jonas half-stumbled, half- ran towards the door connecting the court to the rest of the building, just as Antoine began shooting. He pushed the metal handle and went straight for the elevator, jamming the call button repeatedly.

Footsteps echoed down the stairs in the mostly empty building, and a shape flashed in the darkness of the stair well.

The elevator door opened.

Jonas dived in, narrowly avoiding a hail of bullets from Antoine's silenced weapon. He smashed the lobby button with a fist, making the doors close, and the elevator descend.

Ten seconds later, he pressed the button for the second floor as well. Antoine would know where to wait.

The elevator stopped at the second floor. Jonas made his way out, and across the landing, heading for the fire escape stairs at the end. He glimpsed Antoine emerging from the first floor elevator in the lobby below, sweeping the chrome silencer across the empty room.

Jonas pulled the fire escape door open, thundering down the stairs and into the sparsely populated garage.

Then he remembered that his car was still at the airport.

There was the sound of the fire escape door on the lobby floor opening, and then closing, accompanied by footsteps on the stairs.

Jonas ran over to the closest vehicle - a black SUV - and raised his elbow, slamming it on and through the driver's window. He pulled the handle from inside, and ignoring the blaring of its car alarm, climbed inside.

It took Jonas only a minute to hotwire the car.

One of Antoine's bullets shattered the front windshield, raining shards of shatterproof glass onto Jona. He stepped on the accelerator, and the car shot out of its parking space. He grabbed the steering wheel with one hand and twisted it, turning the car towards the ramp of the underground parking lot.

There was a loud screech as the SUV's left side mirror was scratched off on impact with the wall of the ramp.

Jonas allowed himself a smile. At the very least, he wasn't dead. Yet.

"Smile!" Harker called.

Gawain didn't smile when the flash went off, and neither did Caradoc. "How long until you can replace the photo?" Caradoc asked.

"Ten minutes," Nassor said, winking at him. "Then you pay us?"

"Pay?"

"Oh, yes." Harker put the camera down on the table where Nassor was working on a laptop. "It's cheap, don't worry."

"You're not getting ashit," Caradoc said.

"Aw, come on, I'm saving your lives! Have some sympathy for once."

"You said yourself Klaas gave you more money than you'll ever earn," Gawain pointed out. "That should be enough."

"And yet you pay two and a half Euros for a burger," he muttered. "How is this different?"

"The difference is," Caradoc said, "McDonald's is an honest-to-god corporation that supplies food, which is essential to human well-being, while you are a greedy, thieving son of a bitch who operates illegally."

"The second one probably applies to both," Holly said, stepping in front of the white screen. "Just take my photo."

After holly's picture was taken, Gawain sat down next to Nassor. "Actually, I think I can pay the two of you."

Harker's eyes lit up. "You can?"

"You'll see. So ten minutes?"

"Yes. It's a bit difficult to get the new photo to blend in with the rest of the card, since it's newer, but give me ten and it'll be ready."

The card printer next to the laptop sounded, and spat out three hard plastic rectangles, each with their faces on it. Harker picked them up and opened another door deeper in the warehouse.

Once the door was closed, Nassor sighed. "I told you I can do it."

"You didn't have to shoot yourself," Gawain said.

"I had to. Mr. Harker puts too much faith in me. He would have ordered me to kill you."

"Do you feel lost sometimes?" Caradoc asked. "Like, you've been one of these guys for how long?"

"Only for one year. Before, I was in worse. Gangs that tortured people for fun."

"Jesus Christ. How many...how many people did you kill? In that time, I mean."

"Sometimes it is better not to know," Nassor said solemnly. "Do not ask me about this again."

Caradoc nodded, and said nothing.

They sat in silence for ten minutes, until Harker emerged from the room. "There, all done." He stuffed the three cards into a brown paper envelope, and handed it to Holly. "Where's my payment?"

Gawain's shoe found its mark between his legs.

Harker made a choking sound, before curling up on the floor and moaning.

"You're not getting shit," Gawain said.

Caradoc laughed, gave Nassor a thumbs-up and turned to his partner and her apprentice. "Parlez-vous français?"